


When Life Gives You Yamamoto Takeshi...

by saunatonttu



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Getting Together, Hibari Kyouya is a certified idiot but god help you if you say it out loud, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 01:48:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17519879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saunatonttu/pseuds/saunatonttu
Summary: After their return from the future, things went back to normal. Well, some things.





	When Life Gives You Yamamoto Takeshi...

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of a sequel to The Mysterious Shirt. Thank Atan for this, I certainly do.

Returning from the future was not quite as a big deal as the others made it out to be. For a while, things even seemed to go back to normal, which in this case meant Kyouya inspiring awe and fear among the students whenever he decided to discpline an unruly student. Things went back to as they should be, except for one matter that continued to hang over Kyouya like a rain cloud.

That was Yamamoto Takeshi, as one might have expected if they knew of Kyouya’s confusing discoveries in the future Kyouya’s room in the Foundation’s hideout. Very few personal items had remained in the room, and those that were around appeared to hold a connection to Yamamoto Takeshi. A connection that Kyuouya couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around, even though Gokudera Hayato had certainly offered a possible answer to his questions.

After everything that had happened in future, Kyouya found his eyes trailing to Yamamoto more often, his interest at the hightest it had ever been towards a person before. It irritated him. The easy smile the baseball team’s ace wore on his face had become easier to look at, easier to keep looking at.

What was harder to deal with was Yamamoto Takeshi’s overly friendly nature and his need to greet Kyouya with a grin and a wave of his hand whenever they came across each other. For one reason or another, it always brought a hot flush over Kyouya’s face, which wouldn’t leave until he had properly ’disciplined’ a misbehaving student.

The thought that perhaps his and Yamamoto Takeshi’s futures were deeper entangled than what their roles in relation to Sawada Tsunayoshi indicated irritated Kyuoya constantly, which in turn made his moods more volatile and unpredictable around school. It was also why Kyouya started to pay closer attention to the school team’s baseball games. He always had, on some level, as it was his school in all but name.

He watched it from a distance, as far from the crowd that made up the audience, and his eyes unerringly kept watch over Yamamoto Takeshi, whose grin wasn’t the least bit strained even though it was obvious he was focusing on the game at hand as hard as he had in battle through the future events.

Every time Yamamoto Takeshi did anything worth remarking about, the crowd cheered, and Kyouya’s thin lips pulled into a tight smile against his own wishes. No one was close enough to see it, but he was conscious of it – especially when Yamamoto’s gaze slipped in his direction, his whole sweaty face lighting up further as he caught sight of the leader of the disciplinary committee, who definitely was there to ensure the students remained… disciplined and for no other reason than that. Definitely.

And yet Kyouya found himself looking away, an embarrassing heat blooming on his cheeks that must have been the result of the sun bearing down on him.

He didn’t stick around until the end – just long enough that his school team’s victory became inevitable and just after Yamamoto Takeshi had hit a homerun. It was more than enough. He wouldn’t admit it, but Kyouya wanted to get away so his chest would stop constricting with _something_ , a strange giddiness that he didn’t usually find unless adrenaline was pumping in his veins mid-fight.

Kyouya retreated into the disciplinary committee’s private room. Students and his fellow members of the committee parted to stay out of his way, knowing better than to hinder him. Kyouya paid no mind, too irritated with himself and the irrational warmth and pride swelling in his chest.  For the remainder of the day, he worked on whatever paperwork he had. He had no homework, and even if he had, the teachers wouldn’t pressure him into turning assignments in. So disciplinary committee work it was.

That said, he couldn’t help but ask about it from Kusakabe when he got back from his rounds around the school premises. Without looking up from his papers, Kyouya asked from the person that was closest to having his unwavering trust and thus least likely to disappoint him about the symtoms he was suffering from.

Kusakabe, naturally, nearly choked on his own tongue in surprise at the demanding inquiry. The look of utter shock on his face, which Kyouya saw when he looked up, was amusing enough, but he didn’t have any decent answer to offer to Kyouya. It was the first time Kyouya had been so disappointed in him,  though he also suspected Kusakabe kept something from him, perhaps out of fear of angering him.

For once, Kyouya didn’t push him  for a clear answer and went back to his work, though Yamamoto Takeshi stayed on his mind.  This was different from Rokudo Mukuro’s case, however, and Kyouya had to acknowledge that this was not an urge to fight and hurt as much as it was… something more foolish and complicated.

It was Kyouya’s frustration with these complications in himself that led to what happened next. Leaving something hanging unresolved didn’t sit well with him, and his issues with Yamamoto Takeshi obviously had gone untended for long enough.

If the situation were to be compared to the formation of a rain cloud, the situation had reached the point where rain would finally break free and cascade down.

In Hibari Kyouya’s case, this meant literally grabbing Yamamoto Takeshi by the collar of his shirt and whispering, both irritated and at a loss of more coherent set of words, ” I’m not into haikus, Yamamoto Takeshi.”

The other wasn’t easily deterred by the sudden grab by the collar, though his face twisted into a look of pure confusion at Kyouya’s attempt at menace. With a short laugh, Yamamoto simply said, good natured as always, ”I  didn’t think you were.”

His eyes met Kyouya’s, and though there had been a nervous flicker before, they now looked at Kyouya curiously and attentively, as if Yamamoto were trying to figure something out by staring at his face as closely as possible.

Kyouya’s face flushed hot, which was starting to become an unnervingly usual occurrence these days. ” I don’t need any gifts from you,” he bit out, the scowl on his face growing deeper, ”so you had better not do any of that.”

Yamamoto Takeshi’s expression remained infuriatingly owlish and ignorant, as if he hadn’t been bothered by what had bothered Kyuoya immensely over the past few weeks since their return to the correct timeline. Then, Yamamoto smiled, and Kyouya couldn’t stop looking at the curve of those lips.

”I don’t think I can promise that,” Yamamoto Takeshi said, a touch of pink flushing over his cheeks. ”It’s only natural to give gifts to people you like, isn’t it?” Then, sheepishly, ”Though, I haven’t even managed to confess yet, so...”

”Confess what, Yamamoto Takeshi?” Kyouya lifted an eyebrow at him before throwing a nasty glare at the crowd that had started to gather around them. ”Move along,” he said, ”before I decide to bite you all dead.” 

A few idiots still lingered even after that, but enough had left for Kyouya’s attention to slide back to Yamamoto Takeshi in the almost empty hallway. ”Speak.”

An oddly gentle expression emerged on Yamamoto’s face, though it was tint e d with nervousness. ”Oh, come on, Hibari. Don’t make me do this right now. There’s better times and places for this, you know?”

” _Speak_.” Kyouya’s hand clenching Yamamoto’s collar was beginning to sweat, but he didn’t relent his hold. ”What do you have to confess?”

”I, eh.” Yamamoto Takeshi’s eyes slid away from Kyouya’s. ”I didn’t think I’d have to do this today, so I’m not prepared...”

K youya stepped closer, pushing Yamamoto towards a wall. The other sighed and raised his hands in surrender, a good humored gesture even if he looked somewhat nervous about the whole thing. Kyuoya smiled in satisfaction at the reaction, nodding as if to tell Yamamoto to keep going.

”It’s just… hm.” The nervousness only increased in his expression, and Kyouya’s smile widened. It was satisfying to see Yamamoto at a loss for words and coherency. He was late to class already, but that couldn’t be the reason why Yamamoto was so fidgety all of a sudden.

”Say, Hibari,” Yamamoto started, the pink on his cheeks darkening as he met Kyouya’s eyes again, ”how about… a date?”

The few students that still remained gasped, and Kyouya threw them a withering glare that would have been more convincing were it not for the heat on his face. At least the herbivores scattered before Kyouya had to resort to more violent means.

Yamamoto Takeshi cleared his throat, though it sounded more like a whine than anything else. ”Hibari?”

”You want. A date.” Kyuoya tried to comprehend. ”Today is the twenty-third.”

”That’s,” Yamamoto Takeshi’s face split into a grin as he chuckled, ”not really what I meant.”

”Explain,” Kyouya grumbled, but relented his hold around the wrinkled collar the slightest bit. His mind went back to the items found in his future self’s room, some which implied romantic association between…

Kyouya’s mind blanked. Well, Gokudera Hayato _had_ suggested something of the kind. It could be… though Kyouya had persistently ignored that possibility ever since the night he spent sleeping in his future self’s private room.

Yamamoto Takeshi snorted, and it wasn’t an unpleasant sound but Kyouya bristled at it nevertheless. ”I’m sure there have been girls brave enough to ask you out on a date before, Hibari.”

Kyouya remained silent as he studied the face above his intently. The sincerity in the bright, warm eyes that met Kyouya’s was obvious, and Kyouya couldn’t find a way to demerit it. So he let go of Yamamoto’s collar little by little, until he sunk back to his heels. He had been standing on his tiptoes all this time, though he had barely paid mind to that detail.

”You’re no girl, Yamamoto Takeshi,” Kyouya said. Perhaps that explained how he was keen on paying attention to him. Interesting. Kyouya’s flush had gone down now, and his lips curled upwards into a thinner smile than before. ”Pick me up at seven. Don’t be late.”

Without another word, Kyouya walked away in attempt to preserve some of his pride. Yamamoto Takeshi’s relieved, giddy laughter that followed his departure didn’t help, but Kyouya’s smile stayed on his lips nevertheless.

Things had got a bit more interesting just now.


End file.
